Best Mate
by ArienAngel529
Summary: A friend will bail you out of jail but a best friend will be sitting next to you saying, "Damn, we screwed up." James and Sirius end up in this predicament, with an extremely average policeman and no one to call. Hilarity ensues as the two men bide their time and try to get themselves out of their mess without getting into anymore trouble. A bit outlandish. James/Lily mentions.


Best Mate

By: Arabesque05 and ArienAngel

**Summary:** A friend will bail you out of jail but a best friend will be sitting next to you saying, "Damn, we screwed up." Poor James and Sirius end up in exactly this predicament, with an extremely average policeman and no one to call. Hilarity ensues as the two men bide their time and try to get themselves out of their mess without getting into anymore trouble. Mentions of James/Lily.

**Author's Note:** It is a bit outlandish at times. This was written years ago by myself and Arabesque05. To my knowledge she does not have a FFN account.

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns the entire fabulous universe and all its characters.

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He was handsome, had black hair, and wore Hawaiian t-shirts with sandals and socks, and he was in jail. This was normally not a source of distress (he visited the place quite often – a home away from home – though perhaps he liked it better than home, which was not saying much), but for the fact that this was a different sort of jail.

No, he was not in an insane asylum. He was in… a _Muggle_ jail.

"Remy." His best friend, currently slumped in a corner, slumped with such fidelity, even with those long legs sprawled out, that he looked almost spineless (and James Potter was not spineless, no sir), looked up grinning. "We'll call Remy."

"He'll say no."

"But he'll come."

"And tell Lily."

James – good old Prongs – his dearest mate, immediately cowed, withdrawing even further (if that was possible) into the corner. "Er…yeah," he mumbled, "She wouldn't like that." He rubbed his nose, a tired gesture, a weary gesture, a thoroughly James gesture.

"We could offer chocolate."

"Moony's not going to be bribed, Sirius. We tried that before and he hexed us both to oblivion…" James scowled. "Werewolves. Touchy."

Sirius – of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, which perhaps explained his affinity for jails (though not prisons) – remembered that particular incident, which had involved sugar quills, nonexistent words, Shakespearean references, and a certain 'dear Minerva' who had been, for far too short a time, oblivious to her neon green hair. He shuddered. That had been a fiasco.

"Don't suppose Peter…" he suggested.

"Wormie's in Spain." James rolled his eyes. "Try and keep up with the current events, Padfoot."

"And of course not Lily," he said. Though it was more of a question, and the hopeful look he gave James did not help matters.

"Oh, Padfoot!" James clapped his hands, leaning forward, hazel eyes shinning with such adoration for the admittedly brilliant plan that Sirius began to suspect mockery on the other part. "What genius! What cleverness! What ingenuity! What resourcefulness! How wonderful you are, mate – and I will say that to you again after you have been castrated by my wife."

Sirius tittered nervously. "Castrated?"

"Well – maybe not castrated, but certainly unable to reproduce for the rest of your life. Sterile and soprano."

Sirius let out another high-pitched laugh.

It was common knowledge that Sirius Orion Black was fearless. James Potter was courageous, Sirius Black was fearless. It was good combination. It gave Remus gray hairs, it gave Peter little 'accidents,' it gave the professors (back in the day) ulcers, it gave Slytherins brain aneurysms, and it earned many, many howlers.

Sirius Orion Black was utterly fearless.

He used to room with a werewolf, at whom he poked exceeding fun on an hourly basis. ("But Remy! – I poke fun where I love!"). He kept said werewolf, company on full moon nights, after deliberately annoying said werewolf to the point of insanity. He'd read the Ministry Handbook, and then make a list of most magical laws in existence from 1724 on, for the sole purpose of knowing exactly how he was going to break those laws. He wore pajamas to work. He wore pajamas at home. He wore pajamas to every single ridiculously expensive restaurant in London, and there he slurped his soup and belched his alphabet backwards.

Yes, Sirius Orion Black was, for all intents and purpose, abso-bloody-lutely fearless.

Except for the fact that Lily Potter (née Evans) scared the living crap out of him. (He found that expression interesting, as it amused him to contemplate crap taking residence in his body and peacefully living there.)

This was perfectly acceptable, as Lily was the exception to many rules. James had been the swan bachelor at Hogwarts, and the moment he graduated, the berk had ran off and bought a ring. Sirius had been planning his to go join a monastery, but – of course – Lily had quickly put an end to that twenty-some year old dream. Peter had been bullied out of his life long ambition to bum it out in the streets with a cardboard box and a tin can.

The woman was like Lady Satan, only much nicer, or at least, less evil (though still a very debatable subject) considering Prongs _had_ married her.

Though, to be utterly honest, _that_ in itself had been in doubt for quite some time. James' affection had never been in doubt, but Lily liked to spend the majority of her summers devising ways to kill him as slowly as possible. James saw it as difficulty in keeping him off her mind; Sirius saw it as extreme homicidal tendencies.

James had called theirs a 'magnificent relationship,' which was usually followed by the phrase 'All right, Evans?' and a leering grin, which Sirius (having thought it to James) thought irresistible and charming, but Lily (to whom it was aimed) thought disgusting and perverted.

James said it hurt his cheeks.

He stopped smiling thus, and a few months later went to Hogsmeade with lovely lady Lily.

Sirius refused to see any connection between the smiles and the dates (or lack thereof. Though only form a certain redhead's corner. The rest of the school's female population [and a few male as well] had done their best to fling themselves [sometimes literally] at James, though this meant very little, especially as it occurred every year during Quidditch season.)

At any rate, James and Lily had their magnificent relationship. Though magnificent is a very ambiguous word and can be taken to mean very many different things. But magnificent is magnificent, and however much Sirius got it confused with malignant, it was the type of relationship Prongs had with Lily.

This could not be said of Sirius and Lily. Sirius spent the majority of his time around her looking gutted – and when not looking gutted, glowering.

Sirius liked to call their relationship dysfunctional; Lily termed it nonexistent. 'Oh, no. No, I don't know him. Hmm? My husband? No. No, James doesn't know him either. Oh, I'm quite sure. We don't associate with his type. Yes, insane. That's what I meant by type. Insane, absolutely a raving lunatic. Yes, the slightly wild look around the eyes? The unkempt, unshaven look? The dull vacant face? The potential to start frothing at the mouth any moment now? Yes, yes, I like to call it a failure face. Poor Sirius Black, I knew him, you know. Not well, no, but he had been in my year. Played Quidditch with James – beater. Sad, isn't it? Reduced to this? Slurping his soup, belching his alphabet backwards, and wearing socks with sandals? Hmm… I don't know his. Oh – you must be thinking of Remus Lupin – charming young man, Isn't he? Yes, he and my husband are quite close. No, James is not partnered with Black as an Auror. You must be mistaken – well, certainly, but a good deal of people have black hair. Yes, I'm quite sure, I don't know him."

Lily recited this monologue very often. "No, no, I'm not aquatinted with Sirius Black. No, I don't know Sirius Black. No, I'm not with Sirius Black. No, I'm not responsible for Sirius Black." It usually occurred twice every time they went somewhere in public. To the store for groceries, waiting for James at a train station, going to visit Remus, taking cookies to Arabella, meeting the Prewetts for tea, going to an order meeting. Once, he'd managed to make her say it a total of eight times on one outing. Then, she tried to disembowel him with a spatula. It had been fortunate that James had heard Sirius' screams, though the latter had never allowed him to live it down.

"I know."

Sirius' head snapped up. "What?"

James pushed his glasses up his nose, eyes glinting happily. "Petunia."

"Who?"

"Lily's sister. We'll get Lily's sister to come, she lives in Surrey."

"What?"

"She's bound to come – can't stand to have people know that her family's not normal or respectable, and Lily's not on speaking terms with her."

"The horse?"

"You got a fellytone?"

Sirius blinked confusedly. "The horse?"

"No, a fellytone," James said patiently.

"She's a fellytone?"

"No, _she's_ a horse."

"What?"

"I need a fellytone."

"I don't have one."

They stared at eachother and a very long silence ensued.

Sirius squinted as his eyes began to sting with dryness. "Ow."

James' face was also scrunched up. "Ow," he echoed.

More silence ensued.

"Well," said James, eyes watering. "This is productive."

"Yup." Sirius waggled his eyebrows in hopes that it would relieve the stinging of his eyeballs, but only succeeded in making it worse. "Ow."

"We should blink."

"You are sensible," Sirius commended.

"Count of three?"

"One, two…"

"…Three."

They stared at eachother. "You didn't blink."

"Cheater."

"Liar."

"Liar – cheater."

"Cheater – liar."

Sirius grinned. He really liked James.

"You're my best mate, you know that right?"

"Har, har, nice try, Sirius. I know smiling only makes you want to blink more."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

"Nu-uh!"

"I'm not getting into a session of _that _with you. This impromptu staring contest is bad enough."

"So, who's Petunia?"

"What's it to you?"

"Was she the one I spilled custard and coffee on at the wedding?"

"No, she was the one you threw up on."

"Oh, got firewhiskey in her eyes, didn't I?"

"She had a slight break down."

"We're going to call her then?"

"Prob'ly."

"Brilliant."

In some freaky unison, they blinked together. "Ahh."

After a few moments James said, "Sirius, we still don't have a fellytone."

"Nope," said Sirius brightly. "But we've mugshots."

James smiled the half-charming, half-laughing, thoroughly Prongs smile.

"Sirius?"

"What?"

"You're my best mate too."

Sirius returned James' smile with his characteristic ear to ear Padfoot grin, the one that was totally irresistible to every girl (except Lily) and charmed all teachers (combined with puppy-dog eyes it kept him out of much trouble). "But we still don't have a fellytone."

James' face dropped. "I'm well aware of that, Pads." Which he was, seeing as he had already stated exactly that at least twice now.

"Why don't we try to transfigure one?"

"Ok."

"…"

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to transfigure something into a fellytone or not?"

"You paid attention more in school than I did."

"You did just as well as me though, better in some things."

James had a point; Sirius had done better in Defense Against the Dark Arts because of his family and their Pureblood evil. He had also done better in Potions because of Slughorn's infatuation with anyone who was or knew anyone, and Sirius was someone, being part of one of the most ancient Wizarding families in history, as well as being related to half the Wizarding world because of said family.

"So."

"So why don't you conjure a fellytone?"

"Do you think my _Pureblood_, Voldemort following, blood-traitor despising, house-elf beheading, mudblood loathing, incest ridden, _Muggle hating_ family would _**ever**_ let me around a Muggle contraption like that?"

"No." James was sorry Sirius's family was brought up, he full well knew that Sirius hated them with every fiber of his being.

There was a short silence between the two boys.

"Besides," Sirius added on a lighter note, "that police officer took my wand when he felt me up, which was rather disturbing, he was not very attractive."

James laughed, glad that Sirius was back to his carefree self after that little rant about his family. "Padfoot, he was patting you down to make sure you didn't have any weapons on you. He was not feeling you up."

"Oh, good." Sirius remembered the first time a guy had tried something like that. They were at Quidditch practice when a Ravenclaw player had collided with him and he ended up on the ground pinned underneath the guy and… He shuddered at the memory. He had stayed a good ten meters from him the rest of the season.

"But I don't have my wand either."

James' voice brought Sirius out of his nightmare memory.

"Great," Sirius' voice dripped with sarcasm.

A long silence ensued as each boy was lost in his own thoughts.

"Hey!" Sirius half-shouted.

"That almost sounded like you had an idea, Siri. Don't get my hopes up."

"But I do have an idea," Sirius pleaded, sounding like a small child.

"Okay."

"I remember Remy talking about a book that had Muggle police in it and he said that the police always give each person one call."

"So."

"So we could use the police's fellytone!"

"And I thought you totally ignored Remmy when he talked about boring stuff like that." James looked over to the officer sitting at a desk outside the cell. "Oi! Mate!"

The officer looked up.

"Can we use your fellytone?"

"My what?" the officer replied, thoroughly confused.

"The fellytone, that contraption you use to call people."

"Oh. Well we usually wait till prisoners are sober before letting them call someone," said the man, assuming that their mispronunciation of the word 'telephone' was from drunkenness.

"We're sober!" James insisted.

The officer eyed Sirius, who was currently sitting slouched on the floor blowing his hair away from his face with a casual elegance and watching it fall back down in front of his face, then repeating the process.

James followed the officer's gaze. "Oh, don't worry, he's always like that."

"Alright," was the officer's only reply, though he continued to watch Sirius thoroughly unconvinced that he was not something to worry about. The man, whose nametag read 'Bob,' unhooked a key ring from his belt-loop and opened the cell door, admitting James out. Then Bob walked the younger man over to a telephone sitting on another table sitting in the hall.

"Uh…" James stared at the phone. He just remembered that he, The Mighty Prongs, had abso-sodding-lutely no idea how to use a telephone, and Sirius wouldn't be able to help either.

Meanwhile, Sirius was watching James and the police officer standing there. He sincerely hoped that being married to a Muggle-born had given James some knowledge of the Muggle contraptions that Lily had put in their house. Though Lily explaining how to use them was highly unlikely, this was proved when one time he was at their house he and James made dinner. That was not a good experience. Lily left them in a kitchen full of strange machines that they soon found out to be dangerous. He had nearly cut off his hand in this thing called a blender.

~.~.~.~.~

Bob was having a bad day, or maybe a bad week. No, it had been a bad month. A bad year, honestly. Bad life.

Why had his parents named him Bob? Bob was not a name to saddle on people. Bob was – Bobby and Bobbish and fat. It lacked character.

"Alright," he said tiredly. "Let me understand this." He pointed at the hippie – druggie – longhaired – fellow (a.k.a. Sirius). "You're off your medication."

The… thing nodded happily.

Bob was very frightened. That smile was just not normal.

"And you…" he pointed a rather unsteady finger at the messy-haired, slightly saner, bespectacled one, "you are…in love?" He guessed vaguely. "What?"

The bespectacled one darted a glance at some point above Bob's head. His eyes refocused on Bob. "Er…" His hazel eyes were lit with some very freaky form of madness. He nodded. "Er – yeah. Yeah." Suddenly sounding very enthusiastic. "Yeah. I'm in love." He puckered his lips, making kiss-kiss sounds.

Bob's mind reeled. "Love?"

"Love." The other nodded. There was that same demented smile that the boy's longhaired partner in crime exhibited. "In love – with you."

Bob himself reeled.

"Oh, that – is – good, Prongs," the other boy said.

'Prongs' looked pleased with himself. "Rather, isn't it?"

"Uh…" Bob hadn't a clue how to react. "Erm… well…" He looked down at Prongs who was giving him lovey-eyes and moving slowly closer to him. Bob took a small step back away from the love-struck young man. "I think that if you're not going to call someone then you should go back to your cell."

"Of course I'm going to call someone, my love." James fluttered his eyelashes at Bob.

"Yes, well then," Bob was completely disturbed. "You… you may call."

James looked down at the phone.

"Are you going to call?" Bob asked.

James thought fast, "Would you do it for me, sweetheart?"

Bob cringed at the pet name but reluctantly picked up the phone. "What's the phone number?" he asked.

"Uh…" James thought for a moment. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and began searching through it. This, however, was highly unsuccessful. James searched every pocket twice before becoming thoroughly irritated. Finally, he glared at the inanimate object and turned it upside-down, dumping the contents onto the table.

Bob's eyes widened as bits of paper, strange looking coins and various other objects continued to pour out of the wallet. The flow of stuff from the wallet did not cease until the pile was at least twenty centimeters high and threatening to spill off the table. The wallet's massive amount of space was, of course, thanks to a handy spell. Bob obviously did not know this and was trying to grasp the fact that he had really just seen something so perplexing.

James thought nothing of this little stunt and didn't notice Bob's astounded look. He began to rummage through the pile, picking up the coins and putting them in his pocket as he went.

Bob was still staring at the pile and was now trying to think of any possible way that all this stuff could fit in the bespectacled boy's wallet. Needless to say, this whole 'thinking' concept did not work too well for Bob and he only succeeded in giving himself a headache. So he decided that it would be best to focus on his prisoner instead.

The 'prisoner' had picked up a napkin with a name, address and a lipstick kiss on it. "Padfoot," James looked to the cell where Sirius stood, looking out the barred window at the starry night sky.

"Hmm?" Siri replied without turning around.

"Who's Angela?"

"The tall brunette who worked at the Hog's Head when Rosmerta was busy."

"Wow, this must be from a while ago. She hasn't worked there since our 6th year."

"You're not gonna get rid of that are you?" Padfoot asked, finally looking at James.

"I'm married!"

"But it's a memento from our youth!" Sirius said dramatically reminiscent.

James rolled his eyes. "Padfoot, we were in school less than a year ago."

Over the next few minutes more searching ensued, as well as James asking Sirius, who had gone back to looking out the window, about five or six more names. Bob was getting impatient and was about to put James away when he called his best friend's name again.

"Oi! Padfoot!"

"Yes?" The dark-haired boy said as his Quidditch-toned body turned and his gray eyes fell on James.

"Waz zis?" Prongs' words slurred from being tired. He held up a piece of paper with seven numbers separated by a dash.

"Dunno."

Bob looked at the paper held by James. "That's a phone number."

"Yes!" the prisoners shouted in unison.

"Here." James thrust the number at Bob who dialed the number and handed the phone back to James.

"It's ringing."

"Hello." James spoke into the phone. "Is this Petunia?"

"No, this is Maria. You have the wrong number," a voice spoke on the other end of the line.

"Oh, sorry."

"Bye."

"Bye."

"Well, is she coming to get us?"

"Pads, that wasn't Petunia."

"Oh."

"Which one was Maria?"

Padfoot sniggers. "Maria was the redhead waitress at that muggle restaurant called Hooters," he replied, smiling.

James gives Sirius a blank look, clearly not remembering what he's referring to, then turns to Bob. "Can I call someone else?"

"If it will get you guys out of here and the hell away from me."

Sirius smirked at the comment; he loved irritating people, especially muggles. Irritating and pranking were two of the things he did best. Looking over towards James he spied something in the pile of junk. "Oi Prongs, might wanna save that for later."

James looked utterly befuddled as he stared at the paper in his hand.

"Not that."

He moved his gaze to the pile on the table, and picked up a wrapped condom.

"That could help you later to convince Lily not to be so mad," he said with a smirk.

Prongs promptly whipped the object at Sirius with as much force as possible.

"Argh! Damn it Prongs!"

James just grinned; he had managed to hit Sirius square in the face with a less-than-aerodynamic object.

"I don't understand this –"

Bob didn't understand much of anything at the moment, and felt the 'Padfoot' fellow had no right to complain.

"– it's a condom. They're supposed to be soft latex. What the hell?"

Bob eyed Padfoot, who was leaning rather slumped-ly (but very elegantly so) against the cell wall, clutching his nose. Trickles of blood were escaping from between his fingers.

"Would you like some ice?"" Bob asked, sympathetically, or, at least, with some pity – the type one has for the less fortunate.

The gray eyes, large, dark and shining, focused on him with unexpected intensity. That effect, however, was ruined when one arching eyebrow, cocked at a crazy angle, lifted. The eyebrow disappeared underneath locks of black hair that were now hanging over his forehead.

It made a very strange picture, as if the man was crazy (which he was…sometimes). Or questioning (which was the desired effect). Or possessing one eyebrow, (which was true of him as well as Remus at one point because of a prank that James had pulled when Sirius had gotten Remus and himself very drunk and fallen asleep together. James was the only one who remembered this night but he had insisted that it was hilarious).

"Why would I want ice?" The voice was slightly nasal and utterly befuddled.

"Er…" Bob blinked, "To put on your nose?"

"My nose," Padfoot informed him haughtily and with great indignation, "has been broken –" he ignored a snort from Prongs, "– it is not hot." He paused, thinking. "Wait, wait, wait." This was followed by an attempt to look at the nose, which was difficult considering that a) it was covered by his hands and b) attached to his face. There was a moment of silence, amused and amazed (from James and Bob, respectively), as Sirius crossed his eyes, trying to peer at his nose. He was largely unsuccessful.

"Well," he announced, "it's pretty well formed as far as noses go. Certainly not quite as prominent as Prongs'," Prongs scowled and stuck said body part into the air, "but I find that it draws more attention to my eyes and I have such lovely eyes." He fluttered them coyly at Bob.

Bob turned away, disturbed.

Padfoot returned his attention to Prongs. "Why do you even have a condom? We have better methods you know," Sirius hinted about the contraceptive spells, not wanting to say it in front of a muggle.

Prongs had now seated him in the chair behind the desk, still digging through the messy pile he had produced –Mary Poppins style– from his wallet. Glancing up he asked "Huh?"

"Why do you even have that?" Sirius gestured to where the condom lay on the floor.

James, however, had snatched up a gum wrapper from the pile, completely ignoring Padfoot's question. "Ew. I think this is her number," Bob breathed a sigh of relief, "Except I think this is your gum."

"Why would it be mine?" Sirius exclaimed with great offense. "Why? Why always me, huh? Huh? _Huh?_"

James blinked as a dark black silence settled. Bob, oddly enough, felt like an intruder at his own job.

"Fine!" Sirius said in ah huff and turned away from them.

Prongs attempted to peel the gum wrapper off the gum. It ripped and James threw it back to the table. "I'm never going to be able to read that!" He pounded his fists on the table in frustration.

His misplaced frustration caused a large flimsy book to topple off the table and onto the floor. It landed with a loud 'thwack', which caused Sirius to look up from his brooding silence.

"What the hell was that?" Sirius broke the silence left by the book's loud interruption.

"It's a phone book," Bob said.

"A what?" James asked.

"You know, the book where you look up someone's name and it shows you their phone number and address.

Padfoot was the first to comprehend the sentence. "So you mean we could just look up Petunia's name and find her phone number?"

"Yea, I guess so."

'Bang' James had just smashed his head into the table.

"Prongs, self destructive violence is not good for your health," Padfoot advised.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?"

"Actually, I've told you that every time you tried to commit suicide when Lily turned you down."

"I wasn't talking to you, git!"

"Humph." Sirius turned away and returned to his brooding silence.

"Why don't I just look it up for you," Bob offered. He was willing to do anything to speed up the process and get both lunatics back in their cell or the heck out of here.

"Okay."

"What's her last name?"

"Dursley."

Bob found the name Dursley. "There's three of them, Edward, Majorie and Vernon. She's probably listed under her husband's name."

"It's defiantly not Majorie, I hope. Edward sounds too normal. Vernon sounds stuck-up and stupid. Must be Vernon!"

"Okay." Bob dialed the number. "Here." He handed James the phone.

"It's ringing."

"Hello?"

"Hello, Petunia?"

"Yes. May I ask who is calling at five a.m.?"

"Oh, I'm _really_ sorry, Petunia. This is James."

"James?"

"Lily's husband."

"You!" Sirius could hear her scream from the phone; her voice was full of loathing.

"Calm down." James pleaded. "My friend and I need some help."

"I refuse to help anyone of _your_ kind."

"Please Petunia. You don't understand."

Silence answered James.

"We're in jail, and if you don't come and get us out we're going to have to tell this man that I'm related to you."

"You won't!" She screamed again, causing James to hold the phone away from his ear.

"We can't refuse to answer the police's questions."

"I am only related to you through marriage."

A voice was heard in the background from Petunia's end of the line. "Who is it Petunia dear?"

"No one." Petunia called back. "I have to go. I couldn't pick you up anyway because Vernon would not like me driving his new car and he will never agree to come get you. Goodbye." With that she hung up.

James dropped the phone onto the receiver. "That went well."

"Alright," Bob said, "Time for you to go back into your cell."

James, tired and frustrated put up no fight when Bob led him back to the cell and closed the door, locking them both in once again.

The bespectacled boy sat down next to Sirius and Bob sat down at the desk putting his back to the two men (if they were qualified as men, they were much more like young boys in slightly older bodies.)

"Hey Prongs," Sirius whispered into James' ear.

James, who had closed his eyes, did not bother too open them. "Hmm?"

"Look what I've got," Sirius spoke next to James' ear in a quiet singsong voice.

James could feel Sirius' hot breath against his ear. "Do I actually have to look?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, sleepyhead."

"Fine." James opened his eyes.

Sirius gestured downwards.

James down at what Sirius was pulling partially out of his pants' pocket. He stared. "How did you?"

"I am the amazing, talented, sexy…"

"Come on, really."

"Okay. I reached through the bars and snatched our wands off the desk while Bob was busy being stupefied by your bottomless wallet."

James smiled. "I love you, Padfoot."

"Too bad we can't do magic in front of muggles unless it's an emergency." Sirius was careful to keep his voice low.

"I highly doubt that us being in jail is an emergency."

"In fact, the Ministry of Magic would probably consider it a reason to celebrate."

"Yeah. I can see it now, National Potter-and-Black-Have-Finally-Been-Locked-Up Day."

~.~.~.~.~

" – and so, my cousin, Rupert Alastor Aristide Richard Ferdinand Frederick Joseph Paul, never went fishing again," James concluded and then erupted laughing, slapping his knee.

Sirius was collapsed on the floor, giggling maniacally.

Bob blinked, not getting it. "Your cousin got his hair cut and never went fishing again?"

"Hair cut! That's a good story, Prongs."

"Right," Bob said, "Hilarious."

This was about the twenty-third story. Sirius's cousins had apparently all been evil conniving folk

(with a few exceptions) – and there had been stories about shin splints (oh, _that_ had been _ever_ so funny, lacking both sense and plot), feathers (Bob certainly burst out laughing every time the word 'feather' was said), toast and jam (because who didn't giggle every time they put jam on their toast), and ones that Bob felt had traumatized him so badly he would probably have to get therapy sessions for the next thirty years. Sirius apparently had an endless supply of stories, each worse than the one preceding it – it came from being related to half of England.

But James – Bob suspected that Sirius was not actually the one on medication. _He got his hair cut and never went fishing again? _What. The. Heck.

"Right," Bob said again, "Right." He could feel his brain slowly disintegrating – turning into slush, dark rotting slush, sloshing fluidly around his skull – liquefied brain matter, pureed and –

"— it's got seeds. It's a freaking fruit!"

"Shaddup. Shaddup. It's a vegetable!"

"It's a fruit. Fruits contain seeds, tomatoes contain seeds. Fruits grow from flowers, tomatoes grow from flowers. Tomatoes are fruits!"

Ugh.

Bob thunked his head onto the table.

~.~.~.~.~

"— yep, those were the good ole' days Prongsie-boy, pranking Snape and all the Slytherins, teasing Malfoy for being such a pretty-boy prat when he couldn't do anything back because we were both pureblood heirs, narrowly escaping detentions from the teachers… actually I think we only escaped a few, we got most of them, but still, they were fun, especially when Snape got one with us then we could throw stuff at him until he talked and got another detention, and then there was Remy, he tried to keep us out of trouble and didn't want to take part in our pranks but he always did just to make sure we didn't blow ourselves up, hmm… I miss my Remy—"

"Padfoot, look!"

"Hmm?"

James pointed to Bob who was lying with his head on the table.

"He looks so harmless when he's asleep," James said in a mock motherly voice.

"Well, he's either asleep or unconscious from hitting his head off the table."

"Either is an improvement from his normal state."

"Agreed."

"We have to get out of here."

"Padfoot, they're only holding us for twenty-four hours, we'll be released early tomorrow morning."

"If we don't come up with a way to get out before that."

"Yea. So the only question is 'what do we do until then?'"

~.~.~.~.~

"— bang went the jolly gun – hunter jolly dead. Jolly hare got cleaned away, 'Jolly good' I said." James tapped his fingers in rhythm to the poem.

"Muggles are stupid little blighters, aren't they?" Sirius said.

"Oh – sure," James agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Certainly worse than you – even if we consider that time – "

Sirius glowered intimidatingly. "What time? What time has Sirius Black ever been less than perfection personified?"

"Oh – none, I'm sure." James nodded agreeably, eyes dancing mirthfully behind his glasses. "Unless – well, there was that one time – our first introduction to muggle glue—"

"Hey!" Sirius howled, wrathful, "You were right there eating it with me!"

"_I_ didn't put it on my teeth because 'it made my teeth look whiter—'"

"Well – it does!"

"—and end up gluing my lips to my teeth—"

"They got stuck momentarily! _Momentarily!_"

~.~.~.~.~

The hours trudged on, slow, fitful, and unwilling. Bob had nearly fallen unconscious from banging his head too many times repeatedly on the table. He wished with all his mind, all his heart, all his soul for earplugs.

Stories had not managed to amuse the duo for any length of time, and every time Bob instructed them to 'be quiet in there' they somehow managed to show him how truly tame they had been by acting even more – Bedlam worthy.

Earplugs. What he would give, what he would do for a pair.

"Robert!" Their voices rang out, amused and falsetto.

"Bert!"

"Robbie!"

"Bertie!"

"Crouch!"

"Ooh – brill, Prongs."

"My gratitude, Monsieur Padfoot."

"Oi, Crouch! Can we have a cuppajoe?"

"Can we have some food?"

"Can we have a massive seizure?"

"Ooh – genius Padfoot, bloody genius."

"Monsieur Padfoot likewise extends this compliment to Monsieur Prongs."

"Ha ha, massive seizure."

"Mosh pit!"

"Bertram! I say – Bertram! Would you belly dance for us if we had a mosh pit?"

"Lily might question out heterosexuality."

"Lily has questioned it since fifth year. Still married me, didn't she?"

"Oh, okay. In that case – Bertram, would you lap dance for us?"

"Padfoot, brother – we are foul, rude, profane men, with questionable heterosexuality, and definitely going to burn for the rest of damned eternity."

"We do proud the Marauder title."

"Earplugs," Bob mumble, rubbing his temples, "Earplugs."

"– have you ever compared yourself to crayons, Bertram? I think the analogy profound."

"When he says analogy, he means simile."

"That's right," Sirius said placidly, "Listen to my Prongs. Brilliant fellow, my Prongs."

"Earplugs. Earplugs, earplugs, earplugs, please, please, please –"

"You know, Padfoot – you have strange feet. Quadrilateral. Good lord, Padfoot – they're rhombi! You have rhombi feet!" James laughed.

"Man, shut up. My feet are awesome. They pad. Yours don't. So there." He paused. "Hey, Bertram! Bert – I like you. Will you be my friend?"

"Say no, Bertram! Just say no, man."

"Will you just be quiet for five blessed minutes?"

"Well, I'm not quite sure how blessed those minutes would be… Potter and Black, silent? Very eerie, you know, eerie and wrong."

"You're having magnificent vocabulary today, Padfoot."

"Do you think so? Really? Moony's been working on it. Said that every time words like doohickey and whatchamacallit and thingamabob escaped from my mouth, he had an aneurysm."

"Magnificent fellow, our Muh-oony."

"Do you ever stop talking?" cried Bob, in very real pain.

"Certainly. Sure we do. Like when we eat. But not often. Er – stop talking that is. We eat a lot. More than a lot. We eat on an hourly basis. Speaking of which, I'm feeling a bit peckish. Hey, Prongs, we stop talking sometimes, don't we?"

"Tout passe, tout lasse, tout casse," James answered philosophically, or at least as philosophically as anyone could be expected to sound in French – which was quite a lot.

"Yes. Yes. Exactly as my cohort in crime states. What did you say cohort?"

"Pity you never took French."

"My mother had it in for me," he sighed patiently, "Didn't we establish this ten years ago?"

"I didn't know you ten years ago."

"Fiddlesticks. We've known each other since the beginning of time."

"We weren't alive in the beginning of time."

"Details, details. Minor technicalities." Sirius waved a hand airily. "My point was –"

"You had no point."

"Monsieur Padfoot takes offence to that statement."

"Oh, you do? Do you?"

"Er – yes?"

"Okay."

"And I had a point."

"Really?"

"Sirius Black always has a point, because he is very serious, dammit. How much my statements pertain to said point, or how relevant the statements are is questionable and debatable – but I always have a point… pertain and relevant are synonyms, aren't they? I repeated myself, didn't I?"

"Ooh. Synonyms. Remus has been working hard."

"Yeah, he – hey! That's mean!"

James grinned at him. "So, what _was_ your point?"

"Oh, yes. My point," Sirius said very seriously. "My point was that… Good gosh, man! Look at Bob!" Sirius gestured towards their jailer, who was doing nothing particularly interesting, besides no longer listening to them.

James didn't even make a move to look. "You don't remember, do you?"

"Of course I remember!"

"…"

"…"

"I'm waiting."

James received a blank stare. "What were we talking about again?"

James rolled his eyes.

Sirius's stomach growled.

"Prongsie, my tummy wants food!"

"Oi! Bob!"

'Oh no,' Bob thought, what could they possibly want now? Please let it not involve letting either of the two monkeys out of their cage again. He turned to look at James with the look of a defendant awaiting his sentencing. Please be something reasonable.

"Can we have some food?"

Relief spread over Bob like a blanket. It was a totally normal, reasonable request for food.

"Yeah," Sirius piped in, "how about some pumpkin pasties or chocolate frogs?"

Bob's blanket of relief became a blanket of cactus thorns. Chocolate frogs? What the heck is a chocolate frog? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. And what in the world was a pumpkin pasty? He knew it! It just could never be a normal request from these two nutcases!

"Uh… how about a muffin?" Bob suggested.

"Okay," James replied.

Bob called someone to stand guard while he went to get muffins. He returned a few moments later with four muffins, which he handed through the bars of their cell.

"Yes!" Sirius exclaimed.

Both young men finished off the muffins in seconds.

They were exhausted from staying up all night and now being full made them rather sleepy. Marauders were not ones to sleep when there were plans (to get out of jail) to be made. However, exactly this happened moments later, much to Bob's pleasure.

James and Sirius were curled up fast asleep on the benches in their cell.

Bob watched them; maybe they weren't so bad after all. They were kind of like puppies that were complete terrors when awake but after falling asleep they became innocent and adorable.

A very loud noise knocked Bob out of his thoughts. He looked around, it sounded quite like a chainsaw. Prongs was awake now. He looked at Bob, who looked back and shrugged.

They both looked at Sirius.

Sirius was still fast asleep and he was the culprit of the foghorn-strength noise. Now, Sirius was not one who snored, ever. He usually yelled at Peter for it, in fact. This yelling was often accompanied by a pillow being whipped at the boy's head, or on unluckier occasions (for Peter) a book was thrown when no pillows were available. Once, Sirius only had one thing in reach and chucked a firewhiskey bottle at Wormtail. It missed Peter due to Padfoot's drunkenness, and shattered spectacularly against a wall. Even with missing it still served Sirius's purpose because Wormtail was woken by the sound of shattering glass and did not go back to sleep for the rest of the night out of fear for his life.

Sirius, he absolutely did not snore. It was uncouth. One of the few good things his family taught him was sophistication. Lessons he chose to use when it suited him.

James studied Sirius. The most obvious reason for his best mate's snoring was the odd position in which he was laying. His neck, as well as other body parts, was hanging off the edge of the bench at an uncomfortable –looking angle. Prongs got up and walked over to Sirius.

"Can you shut him up?" Bob asked.

Sirius was fast asleep. James felt bad waking his best mate; after all it was mostly James's fault they were in here. Not that it usually mattered any. Any trouble the Marauders got in, no matter who was responsible, they all proudly took the blame and punishment together. They even unified and took the blame for Peter's bumbling mistakes, if only to protect him. Except for those times which it would harm Moony's Prefect status. Sirius had, on many an occasion, made quite a spectacle of taking all the blame for things while playing it off that Remus had been, in fact, trying to stop him and had no part at all.

James looked at Bob. "I can shut him up. Can you get me a drink?"

"Sure." Bob walked just beyond the doorway to a water cooler.

Once Bob's back was turned, James grabbed his wand from Sirius's pocket and cast a whispered 'Silencio' on him before placing the wand in his own pocket. He then hurried back and sat down on the other bench.

Bob walked back into the silent room. Wait... silent? "How did you do that?"

"I'm just good."

Bob handed the drink through the bars to James. "What was the drink for?"

"I was thirsty." James answered as if any idiot should have known that.

~.~.~.~.~

"– and it's my first day and I don't know what I'm supposed to do and they just stick me here and don't tell me anything," Bob sniffed, "and then you two show up and I've got to stay here all night and you can't go until someone comes to claim you. I don't know when my replacement comes or what time it is –"

James made vague 'there-there' noises and reached through the bars to awkwardly pat Bob's shoulder.

"– and I think I've lost my sanity and possibly my manhood since I'm here bawling my eyes out to you."

"Manly men blubber like babies," James replied. "Sirius and I chop onions on a weekly basis to produce our blubberings. It's pretty brill."

Bob eyed the man. Who was probably insane. And a murderer. And gay.

He sighed despondently. "It's not the fact that I'm crying – though that's pretty bad. It's – I'm crying to _you_ and –"

"Hey now!" James exclaimed. "Hey now, you bloody idiot! What's wrong with me?"

Bob eyed him again.

_Where do I start?_

"Uhm – aside from you professing your love to me 2 minutes into our acquaintance?"

"I'm respectably married."

"Holy Saint Michael! You have a wife?!"

James eyed him this time. "Not coming onto me, are you? Would be dreadfully inconvenient if you chose to reciprocate my undying love at this point since – well – it's pretty much withered away." He paused. "Dead. Finished. Gone. Kicked the bucket. Passed on. Croaked. Dust –"

"Yes, yes," said Bob loudly. "You don't love me anymore! Alright!" He huffed impatiently. "Like I care."

"Aww… I think you hurt his feelings, Prongs."

"He did not hurt my feelings! I have no feelings for him! Do you get that?" Bob raged.

"A'ight! Chill!" Sirius was a bit startled at this sudden outburst and began wondering if Bob was okay in the head. This gave him new energy to think of ways out of this mess, because if Bob was a tad crazy then he certainly did not want to be detained at a lunatic's mercy for longer than necessary. "Prongs, maybe we should call Lily."

James gave him one of those 'are you totally out of your mind?' looks. "You've lost it."

"No, I'm serious."

"Yes, Sirius. I'm well aware of who you are."

"Argh!" Sirius slammed his head back against the wall in frustration. "Not what I meant!"

'Not what he meant?' James thought. When was the last time Sirius used the word 'serious' and was actually being 'serious', not making a pun?

"I mean, maybe we should actually call Lily. You heard him before; someone has to come claim us."

James gave him a look.

"She can't get any madder than I'm sure she already is with you being gone the whole night and not telling her that you were going to be gone this long or what you were doing."

James's eyes widened. "Dammit. I'm a dead man. Do know how angry she'll be? What she'll do to me? I'll be sleeping on the couch for a month! I was only supposed to be hanging out with you for the evening. I was supposed to be home by 2 am at the latest. She probably sent out a search party!"

"Okay, okay, calm yourself Prongsie-boy. Lily probably thinks your got drunk and didn't want to apparate home, lest you splinch yourself."

Sirius's words of comfort were not heard by the frantic James, though. He was busy pacing back and forth, ranting to himself and trying to tear his hair out.

Sirius walked over to James and guided him back to the bench. "Lily loves you, she'll forgive you, James. Don't worry."

"JAMES HAROLD POTTER!" Lily's shrill voice rang through the concrete room, echoing off the walls. Both men turned to look at a very angry Lily, followed by a worried and tired-looking Remus. "I am going to murder you! And when I find out why you're in here, I'm going to murder you again!"

"Lily!" James's reaction was most definitely not a normal one for someone who just had two death threats made to him.

"And me?" Sirius looked worriedly at Lily, who marched past a cowering Bob.

"You are not my responsibility, Black!" She turned back to James. "Do you know how many people I woke up in the middle of the night looking for you? Remus, Frank and Alice, Peter, Kingsley, Moody, Andromeda…"

Andromeda! Sirius could smack himself. Why hadn't he thought of her sooner?

"– then I went to the Hog's head and half the pubs in Diagon Alley! I worried, James! I stopped at St. Mungo's and all the muggle hospitals in the area, there are 8, by the way! I knew you hadn't ended up in holding at the Ministry or in Azkaban, but then I thought to myself 'What about muggle jails?' There are 32 jails and police stations in the area that have holding cells! And guess what?! This is number 32!"

When Lily had finished, a stone silence settled in the room. James had no idea what to say. Sirius was thankful Lily did not seem interested in disemboweling him, though she may try to leave him in the jail. But Moony would take pity on him and get him out, he was sure. He might have to use his Padfoot puppy-dog eyes though.

Bob was shaking at his desk. He didn't dare speak, this was not a woman to mess with.

"Uhh…" James started.

She cut him off impatiently. "I am very upset, James. I think you might like to know that."

Sirius glanced at James's face, which was impassive and white, down to his hands, which were shaking with inhuman frequency, pondered on this, and promptly hid behind James.

"Errh…" said James, rather ineloquently.

"And," Lily continued, completely ignoring Bob's squeak as he wondered if maybe he ought to stop this lady's rampage.

Quite rude, he thought, to just barge into a jail like this. There were regulations for this kind of thing. At that moment, however, he could not precisely remember them.

"– and I find myself a little beyond angry. Furious. Murderous."

Sirius watched with a morbid fascination as her right eye twitched.

"In fact, tell me, Black…" Sirius peeked out from behind James. "What were the words you used the other day? When James painted your motorcycle pink?"

"Outraged. Apoplectic," Sirius announced, lost in memory. "Incensed. Cannibalistic. Put out. Evil. Sadistic."

Lily waved a hand. "No – no, not what Remus prompted, Black. What did you say?"

Sirius considered this a moment, as James shrunk to the side of the cell.

"Erh – what I said? Something about how James – oh! Yes! I said," he cleared his throat, "I said 'James!' No, wait, that's not it. Uh – I said 'Prongsie!' Yes. I said "Prongsie!'" He looked rather pleased.

Lily was not. "And… after that?"

"Huh?"

"He said," Remus volunteered, "'Prongsie! You big meanie! Jolly good show!'"

Lily glanced back at Remus, then to Sirius, then James, then to the little man huddled at his desk, and finally sighed heavily. "You know what? Remus, I'll go with you on this one then. Let's go home."

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**A/N: You made it to the end! Please review =) And let me know if you found any major spelling/grammar errors (except of course, those that were on purpose).**

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